


Beyond

by Sparcina



Series: Iron Webs to Covet [8]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, MIT Era, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Protective Peter, Secrets, Time Travel, endgame spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 12:54:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18638533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: It was quite possibly the single most selfish thing he'd ever done, yet it overshadowed any and all declarations of love.He just didn't see any other choice.In which Peter takes a page from Tony's book and makes a leap of faith (and in time, too).





	Beyond

**Author's Note:**

> Because the hamburger reference made me fucking cry.
> 
> This fic is a fix-it, because there's no way in hell I'll allow Tony to remain dead.

On the day of the funeral, Peter didn’t have any more tears to shed.

He was so fidgety with nerves he almost threw up twice. He felt empty inside, worn out by the battle that went far beyond the final show down near the former Avengers Headquarters.

Did the Avengers exist anymore?

How could the Avengers exist without _him_?

When the final words were said and the rain started, he didn't feel empty anymore. A rush of something fierce and burning, akin to agony but much, much worse, flooded his body like so much liquid pain. He fixed his gaze on the casket, but there was nothing to see, no one, only wood and flowers that did nothing to hide the blaring hole left behind by death.

He didn’t think he could cry anymore, but a tear leaked at the corner of his eye, so cold against the feverish skin of his cheek. He pressed a trembling fist to his mouth and muffled the scream tearing at his throat. Whatever was holding him together, whatever justified that he stood there in a show of strength he hardly felt, it was cracking.  

The fist against his lips felt wet. Rain was pouring down his head, plastering his hair to his brow. Thick droplets traveled down his cheeks, undistinguishable from tears, but cool, indifferent. He wasn't sure how long he remained standing like a thin slice of life about to break, cocooned by the elements reflecting his own rash interiors, but he knew, deep down, that he'd never grieved so deeply before and would never grieve like this ever again.

*

It was quite possibly the single most selfish thing he'd ever done, yet it overshadowed any and all declarations of love.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, a mistake in all probability, a naive attempt to fix what could never be amended in this universe, _his_ universe, but he did it anyway.

He just didn't see any other choice, so he used the split-second distraction brought about by Captain America’s return to dive headfirst in the meanders of time.

Into a past that would give way to a different future.

An alternate hope.

*

He'd miscalculated by a few years, but he’d been in a hurry of sorts, and besides, it didn't matter that much in the grand scheme of things. And if he was lost, looking around at cars so unlike the ones from before (after), if figuring out an identity in an era of dinosaur-like computers was both easier and harder than he’d expected, if finding a place to stay _and_ hiding his powers was a living nightmare, it was still a small price to pay for making sure at least one Tony Stark would have someone looking out for him, someone with the foreknowledge of everything that _could_ go wrong, someone who’d seen firsthand the grip of guilt and regrets and had made it his personal objective to instill light where darkness _could_ lay a claim. 

*

Finding Tony Stark, 19, at MIT, was the easiest thing in the world. At first, Peter had been worried that Tony wouldn’t be there, because back _there_ , Tony had graduated at 17, but luck was apparently on his side, because this Tony had opted for longer studies… and more drinking, unfortunately.

Peter enrolled in engineering, and even though none of his classes would coincidence with Tony’s, they might cross paths in the labs, and that… that was better than nothing.

Peter just wanted more _time_. More time seeing Tony, if nothing else. More time seeing Tony smile, seeing him alive and well. He was a man without a plan, an eighteen-year-old with too much heart and not enough logic, but what the heart wanted, the heart got.

Once he figured out the skeleton of his life in the 80s, he poured all of his energy into figuring out the best way to approach Tony. A healthy chunk of himself found the whole thing despicable – _you’re a con, you’re a fake, you don’t belong here_ –, but the ache deep within his soul forbid him from backing down just yet.

So the question remained: how did you go about making friends with an alternate, younger version of a man who used to be your mentor figure, and with whom you’d been head over heels in love with for years?

The answer eluded him for a long time. Worry kept him up at night, as he fretted over the worst scenarios possible. What would happen to him if this Tony never invited him into his life? He could continue his studies, and make a life out of helping people, because that was what he was good at, but he would be… alone, a traveler with no light to guide him. And yet he couldn’t complain, shouldn’t cry himself to sleep at night thinking of all the persons he’d left behind and missed with every inch of his heart. He couldn't hold this Tony accountable for anything; love didn't work like that. There were never any certainties, and all you could do was bare yourself (jump into the past, enter another timeline) and hope you wouldn't get crushed by an eventual rejection.

What if this Tony _hated_ him? What if they simply didn't fit? They hadn't been perfectly matching parts back there, but they'd gotten along incredibly well, considering the age difference between them. Considering Tony's demons.

Considering Peter's feelings, that he’d worked so hard to suppress.

How did you go about making friends with the alternate version of the man you loved across time and space?

The answer, it turned out, was: you geeked over robotics together.

Peter had been tinkering with a chemical compound for his web fluid while working simultaneously on a TP for one of his engineering classes. He was dead on his feet after a night on patrol and was dangerously low on money, which had meant no coffee and no breakfast, _and_ he hadn’t had a wink of sleep in two days, because the last few times he’d heard Tony’s name it was accompanied by either ‘alcohol overindulgence’ or ‘vomiting’.

Suspecting and knowing for certain, Peter reflected as he burnt his thumb and swore under his breath, were two wildly different things. How was he supposed to protect Tony from himself and from the people who’d harmed him ( _might_ harm him) from a distance? He would not impose, but it hurt, to be so far. They were four weeks in the semester and they had yet to-

“Ah, shit, sorry, pal!”

Peter whirled around in time to catch a vial that had apparently been lying a tad too close to the edge of his workstation… and almost dropped it anyway.

Before him stood nineteen-year-old Tony Stark. This younger version had his hair all messed up, dark smudges under his chocolate-brown eyes and a heavenly-smelling coffee in one hand. The band shirt he wore, and more importantly, the curious set of his brows, punched a sob out of Peter’s chest.

Tony seemed to be rotted to the spot as well, because he was looking at Peter at least half as intently as Peter was. It wasn’t even lust (not _only_ lust) for Peter; it was just the shock.  

After all, it was the first time he was breathing in Tony with his senses, the first time he was close enough to do so, since the funeral.

Mentally, he slapped himself and wiped the traitorous tear while putting the vial back on the work station.

“Hey,” he said, voice just a little wobbly.

The vial slid a little in his shaky grip.  

Tony was immediately into his personal space.

“Hey yourself, wonder boy. I thought I was the only one on this campus to put all-nighters for fun science-y stuff. What are you working on? Here, pour some caffeine in that brain of yours before you pass out.”

Their fingertips brushed around the paper cup. Peter’s breath hitched. Tony was still looking at him curiously. There was no regret to unveil, no guilt, only… only beauty. Peter’s first reflex, to pull this younger version of Tony in his arms and never let go, was quickly overridden by reason.

“Here, let’s trade.” He thrust a glass of water at the young genius, mentally berating himself for shaking. He could do this. Could play his part to ensure Tony was happy. Which meant, at least in part, healthy. “Drink this, you look dehydrated.”

Peter was half-sure he’d overdone it and was going to end up splashed in the face, or worse, but the genius only stared at him like Peter had just answered a particularly difficult question.

“Okay, trade accepted.”

They exchanged drinks. The first sip of coffee burnt, but Peter’s body needed sustenance so desperately that the pain hardly registered.

Tony leaned back into the high stool Peter wasn’t using and gestured with his glass of water towards Peter’s workstation. The motion was so… familiar. Peter blinked back the tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

“Tell me about this fluid of yours,” Tony prompted. “What does it do?”

Peter quickly stored the vial behind notebooks and instruments in a very poor attempt to conceal it from piercing eyes.

“How about I let you play with this instead?” he said nervously, thrusting his engineering TP in Tony’s empty right hand.

Tony beamed at the little robot.

*

Peter would not have been the same person in every universe, so it made a lot of sense that this Tony wouldn't be precisely like the one he would never see again.

And yet.

"Thanks, Peter."

It took him a few weeks to stop worrying that Tony would die. He busied himself with his studies, and taking care of Tony in all the small ways he could. Making coffee was second nature now that he had access to a functioning machine (one Tony had brought to their ‘usual’ physics for practicality), and remembering how the other Tony liked his, he decided to make the genius a strong, black espresso one evening while they were both bent over schematics for a common project.

"How did you know I like it plain?" Tony said appreciatively after a first sip, brow raised in amused puzzlement.

Peter racked his brain for an acceptable answer that wasn't _that's how the other you took it_.

"You- You don't have any milk or cream in the fridge," he said with as much conviction as he could muster.

Tony's frown deepened, but to Peter's relief, the genius turned back to the mechanical parts scattered on the floor. "What about sugar? There’s some in the cupboard."

"I-" Peter didn't want to lie, but he couldn't afford to say the truth. "A hunch, I suppose?"

Guilt tormented him that night – _deceiver!_ – but the next morning, when he brought Tony a blueberry smoothie and his lab partner simply thanked him and drank it greedily while scribbling in a notebook, it was Peter’s turn to grin.

*

Tony didn’t need a roommate, but after a fourth night in a row in the physics lab together, Tony asked him to move in with him.

“We already sort of live together. In the lab,” Tony added as Peter opened his mouth to protest. “I know already all your arguments, but none of them matter if you _want_ to move out of your crappy set of your rooms and make me a favor by adding some life to my humungous set of rooms.”

Peter was torn between delight and guilt, which was a regular occurrence these days.   

"I don't want to, to impose-" _any more than I already am. I don't want you to hate me. Also, Spiderman._ _You-_

Tony leaned into him. He had coffee mugs in both hands, and offered one to Peter. His eyes gleamed with amusement, and something else Peter couldn’t name; it wasn’t a look the other Tony had ever directed at him.

“Do you _want_ to?”

Peter bit his lip, but Tony wasn’t relenting, so after a few moments of trying (and failing) to calm down his racing hurt, he gave a small nod.

“Wonderful!”

Apparently, every Tony had convincing down to a science.

And it wouldn’t surprise Peter in the slightest that every Peter ate straight out of his hand.

*

He hadn’t _asked_ for Tony to wander around the apartment in boxer briefs. As a result, he blushed even more easily than before (or so Tony kept telling him when Peter tried to force him to eat breakfast when the only thing the genius wanted to do was work). He’d stopped counting the number of times he had to excuse himself for some time alone in the bathroom.

He hoped Tony wouldn’t notice the effect he was having on him, but geniuses tended to put two and two together.

Some nights, Peter wondered if he hoped for four, or for five.

*

Of course he let some things slip. How could he not?

"You're not from around here, are you?" Tony asked one morning over a late breakfast of toasts, bacon and eggs Peter had prepared for them both.

DUM-E, the final version of Peter’s bot to which Tony had contributed, rolled up to the foot of the bed and let out a little noise of puzzlement. Peter placed the tray on the mattress on the bedside table of Tony’s double bed and willed his panicked expression away. He was, as usual, mostly unsuccessful. A pained sigh escaped him.

"I've told you I'm not from Massachusetts," he said as he sat down close to DUM-E.

When a hand landed on his shoulder, Peter almost jumped out of his skin.

"I know that, Peter."

The warm breath on his neck sent a full-body shiver through him. He tried to play down his physical response to the proximity, but he was beginning to suspect that he would always fail, because this Tony read him like an open book and sought the signs his older version, alternate version, had never tried to see. Or pretended to ignore.

God, he felt so tired, suddenly.

"Tony, listen..."

He made a weak attempt to shuffle away and pretend that his whole body wasn't on fire, but the grip on his shoulder tightened. Tony's lips were so close to his nape that Peter could feel the heat of his breath. He felt dizzy.

"You always know what I like, what I want, without me ever needing to say it," Tony said, passion lacing his words. “ _Always_.”

Peter’s blood ran cold in his veins. Guilt surged through him anew, a fist clawing at his insides. His skin felt too tight, his heart beat too fast, he needed-

He must have leaped to his feet and attempted to flee, because Tony cornered him at the door and trapped him against it with a determined look in his eyes. Peter could have fought him (he was so much stronger than him), but he didn’t want to risk hurting him, and besides, he already knew he would come back, if only to have _a little more time_.

But how much? He knew better than to think he would never betray himself (betray _Tony_ ). And when Tony learned where he’d come from, _why_ he’d crossed time and space to be with him, he would despise him. Tony hated deceivers with passion, and was equipped to be the best of them. How could Tony accept any of the many roles Peter wanted so desperately to play for him considering what he knew? The guilt was eating him alive, but the hope, and the affection in Tony’s interactions with him, made him feel so _good_ , and the paradox was tearing him apart.

And he couldn’t stay away. Even as he stood with his back to the door, threading so clumsily the line between truth and lies.

He was losing himself.

Tony’s expression shifted into something… softer. Peter didn’t allow himself to cry.

"I'm pretty sure there's a logical reason for you to hide in plain sight, to lay yourself bare when I’ve done nothing to earn your trust or your… devotion," Tony said in a low voice.

Peter heard himself whimper a heartbeat before he could bite back the sound, and god, he could feel the flush spread across his cheeks even as his body moved almost mechanically to lean into Tony’s warmth, into his naïve acceptance. The distance between them was unbearable.

An infinity of time and space.

"I."

The genius seemed to look right through him, brown eyes full of concern and curiosity, with none of the sadness and guilt his older – _other_ – self carried constantly, and none of the suspicion and disapproval that painted Peter’s nightmares. Peter licked his lips, but his throat was dry, and no explanation, no escape, was forthcoming. He could just fall, fall further into Tony’s orbit, and hope he wouldn’t mess it all up, hope-

One of Tony’s hands moved to his jaw. Held it, thumb brushing the flushed skin.

"If I kiss you know, are you going to pass out?"

The hint of laughter in Tony’s tone dispersed the tension a little. And when the words themselves registered, well… Peter felt a little like he’d been hit by a freight train. Repeatedly. Those words… he'd waited for them, thinking himself an egoistic fool for hoping on day, they would be his.

Tony’s calloused thumb dug into his jaw. “Peter, _please_ don’t pass out.”

_Just don't do anything I would do and definitely don't do anything I wouldn't do._

Peter felt the fall came to a stop. The giant fist around his chest loosened. Imbued with a newfound confidence, he reached for Tony’s nape with one hand and placed the other loosely on the genius’s waist. The word 'miracle' floated in his mind.

"I- I'd like that kiss very much."

It was Tony who linked their mouths together, but Peter who deepened the kiss by dipping his tongue in Tony’s mouth. With an appreciate growl, Tony fisted a hand in Peter’s head and licked inside his mouth. Peter held on to Tony for dear life as he drowned in the _familiardifferent_ taste, basked in that male, musky scent that would permeate his dreams for years to come.

Tony’s hungry moan as they parted to breathe prompted Peter to press his lips to the offered throat. He knew he couldn’t quite get _into_ Tony’s skin, no matter how much he had the other man under his own, but still he tried. When two hands moved in between their bodies and stroked his belly through his shirt, Peter let out a soft whine that quickly morphed into a full-throated groan when those skilled fingers gently traveled north and squeezed his nipples.

“God, I want you,” Tony panted, hips rocking into his own.

Peter’s only reply was to suck on the tip of Tony’s tongue, and then lifting the genius off the ground in an attempt to get closer still.

“Fuck, that’s hot, you’re so hot,” Tony nibbled at Peter’s lower lip, brown eyes dark pools of arousal. “So fucking strong.”

Peter almost dropped Tony right here and there, startled out of his daze by the knowledge that he was caressing Tony’s back through his shirt, which meant that he was supporting his weight with one arm _and no support from the wall_. The fact that Tony was wrapped around him, hot and needy and pliant, probably explained why they were both still standing.

“Don’t panic, sweetheart,” Tony whimpered pleadingly, running reassuring hands down Peter’s arms. Was he shivering? He didn’t think he was shivering. “I don’t care how, not right now. I’m not after your secrets.”

All the while crooning sweet nothings, Tony set on kissing every inch of Peter’s neck he could reach. At the prickling sensation of sharp teeth right over his pulse point, Peter stopped worrying altogether and allowed desire to override his higher functions. He wanted Tony so, so much, and given the rapid, frantic dance of Tony’s hips, the feeling was mutual.

“I’m gonna jizz in my pants, Peter.” Tony’s nails sank in Peter’s shoulder blades through his shirt. “Fuck, you’re just too- okay, wow, let me down.”

Peter immediately complied. As Tony dropped to his knees, lips curled up in a seductive grin, Peter stopped breathing.

“Come here. I wanna suck your cock.” Tony made grabby hands at the waistband of his pants. “Now, if you like me even a little.”

Peter nodded jerkily, and then bit down his lip hard enough to draw blood because Tony, ever the impatient one, had flattened his tongue on the bulge in his pants and licked his clothed erection from root to tip. A low moan tumbled from his lips as Tony made quick work of his pants and underwear. And dove for his cock like he’d been _dying_ to have a taste.

 Peter was breathing again, but too fast, too hard, and his balls were already tightening. “God, oh, god, I’m not going to…”

 _… last_ , he meant to add, but Tony was already swallowing down his cock with purpose, jaw relaxed to allow a smooth glide. The sensation of a wet mouth engulfing him (of _Tony’s mouth on him_ ) was unlike Peter had ever experienced, and he meant to postpone his orgasm, he really did, but suddenly Tony’s throat was tightening around the sensitive tip of his cock, once, twice, and Peter barely had the presence of mind to step back before he careened over the edge…

… all over Tony’s face, because apparently Tony hadn’t wanted Peter to move and had held on to his shirt with a white-knuckled grip.

“Oh. God.” Peter didn’t even recognize his own voice as he took in the debauched tableau in front of him.

Tony grinned smugly. White stripes of cum dribbled down his right cheek, and some more glistened on his parted lips. There was even a little on his nose, but it was the single droplet caught in his dark goatee that was the last straw. Tony pulled his roommate into a soft, playful kiss as soon as Peter’s knees hit the floor.

“That was _so hot_ , Peter.”

Peter rather thought he’d been pathetic, but Tony was cradling his face and watching him with rapt attention (and open wonder, _why?_ ). Words chased each other out of his mouth. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come on your f-face, and I lasted all of two second, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“I wanted to taste you, and I can still do it,” Tony cut him in gently, tongue darting out to lick the white off his own lips. He chuckled at the look on Peter’s face, but the dark intent remained, lighting his eyes from the inside out. “And besides, you’re as young as I am, so we have a few more rounds to look forward to.”  

“A few more _what_ -?” 

“Which means I get to make you come at least twice more in the next hour,” Tony purred, helping Peter out of his shirt with a heated gleam in his eye. “For someone who lectures me so much about healthy life habits and relaxation, you certainly are a prime example of stress, and I really want my mouth on your cock some more. You’re making me _hungry_ , sweetheart.”

“But y-you didn’t… come,” Peter stammered, red in the face all over again.

“You can do whatever you want to me later, sweetheart,” Tony promised as he climbed back to his feet, holding out a helping hand to a stunned-looking Peter. “Aaaaaand you better not jerk off alone in our bathroom anymore. You want me, I want you, so there’s no need to deprive me of a show. Come on, let’s go to the bed; it’s more comfortable than the floor.”

Peter really couldn’t argue with any of that. And if it turned out that for all his superpowers, he had a serious gag reflex, at least Tony didn’t seem to mind. He actually climaxed fairly quickly once Peter started to drool around his cock.

“I’m so lucky to have you with me,” Peter thought he heard Tony whisper as he fell asleep.

He might have been dreaming.

*

"I know so very little about you, and it seems to me that you know everything there's to know about me. That's not very fair," Tony remarked one evening.

They were lying in bed with a tray of Thai take-out from Tony’s favorite restaurant.

Peter picked up his fork. "My life's really not that interesting."

"I disagree with that."

"I'm a first-year student in engineering, I never leave the campus, I don't-"

"-have any relative, living or otherwise, and no background history either, interestingly."

Tony's hand caught his just as Peter was scurrying to the foot of the bed.

"Don't."

Tony’s voice was sharp and full of steel, at odds with his gentle grip.

"I don't want lies," he said sternly. His goatee scratched the back of Peter’s neck as he spoke. "And I know you don't want to give me the answers I'm looking for."

"It’s not-"

"The mystery of your non-existence is eating me alive, but you're here, and that’s what matters," Tony breathed in his ear, and for a moment, Peter's mind buzzed fiercely at the thought that the Tony he'd known, and the Tony he knew, may be speaking as one right now, linked across universes.

He remembered May so vividly. Ned, Michelle; the Avengers. He missed them, all of them, but he couldn’t wallow in self-pity, didn’t _deserve_ to experience loss when he was the one who’d chosen to thwart time and space to have a chance to spend more time with the man he’d loved for years. He’d gotten so much more than he’d dared hope for: friendship, companionship… intimacy. He was so damn _lucky_ and it couldn’t last.

He wasn't even aware he was crying until he felt Tony brush a tear away with his thumb.

"I. Thank you." He was so egoistic for wanting so much, for wishing it would last. The next words rolled off his tongue without his permission. "I miss- them. Family. Friends. They're-" _No lie, no more._ "I'm... gone."

If Tony thought the formulation strange, he didn't comment on it.

"How about you let me help you relax a bit, sweetheart?”

Peter turned around to stare at him. He knew that guilt was written across his face. It might as well have been a flashing red sign. “Why- Why aren’t you angry?”

"None of that now," Tony said firmly, soft lips caressing his jaw. "You brought so much joy in my life, I am only grateful that the only thing you deny me is the truth that burdens you so very much. Now lie down with me, the food can wait."

*

_2 years later_

Tony had insisted on a movie night, so that Peter could relax before his finals. Peter rather thought it was an attempt to keep him from another night of patrol, but he relented and let Tony choose the movie and call for take-out. Tony had known about Spiderman for a little more than a year and taken it in stride, like it was nothing unexpected.

He didn’t know what overtook him. He wasn’t close to drunk (didn’t even know how that would feel), and Tony hadn’t asked questions about his former life in weeks. With a sad smile, he turned around in Tony’s arms.

“Yes?”

The truth wanted out. And it came out, slowly, like part of Peter was still fighting to keep it all to himself, wrapped up in guilt and so, so many doubts.

“Once, I knew someone. He was…” Peter traced Tony’s jawline with a finger. “… exactly like you.”

Tony’s eyes gleamed strangely in the dim light.

“And was I aware of you then?”

“Not this way, no. He- You-”

He snapped his mouth shut on the next words, but the truth was out. At long last.

“Tell me,” Tony demanded, holding Peter’s hands in his own.

So Peter did. He told him of Tony, the _other_ Tony. Of his pain, his regrets. Of the hard decisions he’d been forced to make.  

“He sounds like someone I’d become without you.” Tony kissed him on the nose. He only ever did that when Peter felt fragile, too fragile to even attempt to pretend he was all right. “What you did... it was incredibly rash and stupid, and I'd very much like to know how at some point, because I suspect I'm involved in some way, but that can wait."

 _Stupid._ Peter winced.

Tony dropped his hands and pulled him into a tight hug. "Stupid because you didn't think for one moment about yourself."

"I only thought of myself!" Peter protested hotly.

Tony’s hold on him tightened. "Peter... What if we'd never... Things... Us... There are so many ways it could have gone differently. Wrong, too."

Peter’s mind had gone blank. Time seemed to have stopped, and he couldn’t understand _how_. “You don’t…” His chest felt ready to burst. “… _hate_ me?”

"Whatever for?" Tony sounded genuinely curious.

"Because I deceived you," Peter whispered back heart clenching painfully. “And you hate liars.”

“Of course I do, everybody does. But intent is important, Peter, and your intent was never to hurt me.”

The realization hit him then: Tony, _this_ Tony, hadn’t been through the tragic deceptions that would harden him later (or maybe never, here). _His_ Tony smiled often, carefree, and no darkness lurked in his eyes. He slept soundly, when Peter managed to pull him away from his twenty-something projects to get some rest.

And Tony was just as clever, just as attentive, caring and wonderful, as the one who now rested forever in that other universe he would never return to.

“I love you,” he said, and felt Tony’s say back the exact same words in the languid kiss that followed.

 _There was only one way for us to defeat Thanos, and now we’re mourning the man who’s made it possible,_ Strange had said at the funeral.

As Tony made love to him that night, Peter cried, but they were tears of joy.


End file.
